thecutdiamond | it is not adversity that kills [For Eileen]

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with: eileen

it is not adversity that kills [For Eileen]

When Rachel had forced her niece to go into the passageway, she had honestly expected it would be for the last time. The thought had been kept in the back of her mind so she could focus on helping those who needed it, on ushering the retreating Cards to the escape routes, but it lingered there. Came swimming to surface when she was finally cornered by the Chess Pieces.

She'd fought as hard as she could; she always did. But just like it had been with the Magician, there was only so much one woman could do.

She'd not expected to wake up. In time, she would come to wish she hadn't. But she held on to the hope that her niece would lead their people to victory, and so she kept fighting-- spat at her captors' questions, held her tongue under their torture while she could, screamed only curses when she finally couldn't. And so it went for what felt like an age.

Until one day, the Chess Pieces didn't come. She wasn't sure how long it was she was left alone, didn't know that it was because the war was over at last. Didn't actually wake up when the Cards come to free her and the others the Chess Set had taken prisoner.

When she starts to regain consciousness, the first thing that comes back is the feeling of pain-- and it feels odd, numbed and dull like she was feeling it from behind a veil. The second thing that comes back is her hearing-- and the sound of soft hospital monitors and gentle, distant murmurs greets her instead of harsh words.

It takes effort, but she finally, finally opens her eyes and realizes that she's home.

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When Eileen had been forced by her aunt to go into the passageway, she had honestly expected it would not be the last time she saw the older woman. It wasn't out of a childish faith in Rachel, out of a disbelief in the ability of another member of her family to fall. It had been simple necessity.

She couldn't worry about Rachel. She had to worry about the troops, about herself, about the men and women gasping for direction in the heat of the battle. Personal concern wasn't allowed.

It wasn't until the war was over, not until the last assassin had been carted off and the final body count tallied, that she allowed herself to shake, to breathe without confidence. To worry about the people she loved with her full heart who hadn't come marching in exhausted triumph back to their home.

There are a few beds she's been circulating between in her time not devoted to building a more solid structure to rebuild their world in. It's happenstance that the bed she's fallen asleep, entirely exhausted, against is Rachel's.

She's not entirely back in mind, but she knows enough to recognize that she's safe at last and that her niece is here, asleep though the young woman is. Her fingers are broken and splinted on the hand closest to Eileen, but that doesn't stop her from stretching the small distance to lightly touch her arm. It's not enough to wake her, Rachel hopes, but she needs the touch to reassure herself that this is real.

Her eyes burn with what she realizes suddenly are tears of relief, and strong though she's been and still is, she's tempted to let them fall.

Of course it wakes her. Eileen's hardly been sleeping well while passing out on various beds in the hospital, but it's gotten into her system more than anything now. She'll have to relearn how to actually sleep later.

The touch jerks her upright, breath catching in her throat and fingers twitching toward her side before she settles into where she actually is. Into who it is that's waking up before her.

"--Rachel."

For a moment she's regretful she's woken her niece, but only for a moment. It's so much better to actually try to smile at her, instead, injured fingers reaching a little to try to hold the younger woman's hand-- or, at the very least, touch at her arm again.

"...Eileen." Her voice is still a little hoarse, throat still a little raw from so much screaming out in agony for so long. She speaks anyways, "Y-you did it, little one."

Her fingers close instantly around her aunt's, both hands lifting the older woman's carefully to her lips. The doctors had warned her to be delicate if Rachel woke, to be gentle despite the strength she knew her aunt to have.

It's very, very difficult not to throw her arms around the former Diamond, but she can barely hold herself back. Clinging to the woman's hand might actually be a bit too tight.

"We did it." Her own breath is tight, pained as she tries to push a smile onto her lips. "You-- should have seen them all. You would have-- been so proud of us."

There's the faintest of flinches, but it's hard to tell if that's because of the grip on her hand or just a sudden twinge of pain from elsewhere on her body. She still smiles at Eileen.

"I am proud of you."

Of all of them, yes. But especially her.

She hears both. She hears a general pride for the wonderful strong men and women who kept their home safe, and she heard the warm specific affection her aunt intended for her in particular. Both help immensely.

Her laugh is a little pained as she leans closer on the bed. "And you're-- you're here too, Auntie. You made it home again."

Her own laugh is a little shaky, a little undermined by the tears of relief that escape from her eyes as she blinks and smiles even more at her niece.

"I am. Told you I'd-- see you on the other side."

Maybe this wasn't quite what either of them meant. She doesn't mind.

This is much better. But knowing the other option--knowing what her aunt had more than fully expected, knowing what those glimmering tears mean--still has Eileen's breathe catching tight in her throat.

She can hug carefully. She can hug without crushing, without dislodging any wires or tubes.

She has to.

She can't quite hug back, but she tries. Her head presses against her niece's shoulder, breath coming in trembling as she finally lets some of the emotion she's been keeping in all this time go.

"I-- love you, little one."

So important to say, now.

It's enough. It's enough to be pressed together this way, to be breathing the same hitched breaths and not caring whose tears are hitting whose cheeks.

"Please n-never-- scare me like that a-again, Auntie."

"I'll do my best not to," she murmurs, "Promise."

It should be easier, now that the war's done. Should be easier, now that she's given so much; finally feels as though she's done everything that's necessary for them.

"I don't think I'll be-- doing much fieldwork again after this, to be honest."

It's too much damage, on top of the frailty from her spinal injury all that time ago. She's fairly certain that this is going to put her out of fighting more firmly, now.

"I love you," she murmurs, more because it needs to be said over and over than in particular response to anything. "And I'm not-- ready, Rachel."

She hadn't been ready to lose Edgar, or Andrew or Lancelot or Argine. Surely she was allowed to feel selfish about this one last piece of her family?

"I know, little one." And she isn't ready to let go of this either, she finds. Isn't actually willing to be with their loved ones lost if it means leaving this loved one behind.

It's a change from how things used to be, and she doesn't mind it.

"I love you. And I'm-- not going anywhere."

Not for now. Hopefully not for a while yet.

It's likely the kind of realization that would make those on the other side of the veil breathe a sigh of relief. This, after all, is what they want for their loved ones still alive.

Eileen isn't fully thinking of them. It's so much more important to think of the one still here, still warm and breathing close against her in this moment.

"Not for-- a long time. Please. I... I want you to see what... we build here."

It's hard for her to move too much, but she manages a nod and to briefly pat the young woman's back before having to let her hand drop to the side again.

"And-- I want to see what we-- make of everything. Truly."

"You will. You'll-- help, Rachel, you will."

They'd need, after all, those who had seen the Deck through more than one era. They'd need as much as they could to build something better.

"I will, little one," she affirms, shifting carefully, tentatively to kiss her niece's forehead.

"I promise."

It's easier to breathe calmly with that reassurance. It's easier to settle back, cling less tight to the older woman's hand.

"It... ended definitively, you know. Their Queen is dead."

There's a calm, slow exhale of breath at her niece's words, and she nods after a moment.

"Good. That's... good."

Or something. At least the war is done.

They can talk later about who killed the woman. They can talk later about who sobbed in the half-decimated graveyard with an old bodyguard holding her tight.

For now, there's just victory to focus on.

"So you can... breathe, Auntie. Focus on getting better."

They'll have time later. That's the nice thing. Time enough to talk about everything that had passed. Time enough to grieve.

Time enough to heal.

"I will," she murmurs softly.

"Promise." A childish request, perhaps, but something she needs in this moment. Her pinkie finds the older woman's almost without instinct. "Please promise."

Her pinkie wraps around hers, and Rachel nods, "I promise."

So much easier to make than the one she had before they parted ways all that time ago.

That manages to get her smile back. That gets relief in the light kiss against the older woman's cheek. "Thank you, Auntie. Rest."

"All right."

Although her hand does catch a little at her niece's sleeve.

"You'll visit again when you can?"

She knows she must be incredibly busy, but it would be such a help to see her, even if it's only rarely.

"I'll make time. I promise." She was here sitting with Julien all the time already--had still carved out time to be sitting waiting for Rachel to wake up.

Keeping the acting Queen sane was a real priority for the reforming society. This had to be allowed.

"Thank you, Eileen."

It would be good, for them to change the attitudes towards how Faces needed to behave. If there was anything that needed to be taken away from this war, it was the importance of knowing they could trust one another enough to be a little weaker in some things, at some times. The balance in abilities each Suit brought to the table was what had helped them stand strong to the end.

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it is not adversity that kills [For Eileen]

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